THE PURCHASE
“I’d like to speak to you on a matter of business.”
Ben’s face flushed in spite of the effort he made to look unconcerned,
and it vexed him that his voice trembled.
The old man addressed surveyed the boyish figure before him.
“Business?” he questioned.
“Yes. It’s about the Works.”
“Well, what about ’em?”
“I should think there’d be a good deal of lumber in the frame and
bricks in the chimney.”
“Yes, I s’pose there is; but what’s that to you?”
“I want to know what you’ll take for the whole concern as it stands? I
suppose the lease you’ve got won’t run forever.”
“No, I guess it won’t.” Mr. Madge meditated for a moment. He needed
money badly, to finish a pet tunnel in his “Bonanza Princess” mine. The
sum that Ben could give would be a small one, he knew, but it would be
better than nothing. As for the lease--“The leas’ said about that the
better,” he said to himself, with a chuckle at his own wit. He sat down
on a pile of boards and motioned to Ben to take a seat beside him. Then
he hung his hooked cane on his left arm.
“How much’d you have left after your father’s affairs was settled up?
Must’ve been quite a tidy little sum, I reckon.”
Ben had resolved not to furnish any information in regard to his
finances, unless obliged to do so.
“There wasn’t much left, after the debts were paid,” he replied.
“Didn’t he give you all he had ’fore he died?”
“Yes. There wasn’t any one else to leave it to, except my cousin, Beth
Morton; and my father knew that if he left her anything, Mr. Hodges
would take it.”
“And you don’t mean to tell me ’t you paid his debts outen it, when you
wasn’t obliged to!”
“Every last one of them!” the boy said with emphasis.
“Well, Ben Ralston, you are an odd stick!” He regarded his cane with a
speculative air, as though he were comparing it with Ben. “Guess I must
be gittin’ along hom’ards, now,” he added, as he slowly rose.
Ben was busily speculating upon his intentions. “The old sharper
means to find out exactly how much money I’ve got, and then make a
stand to get it all,” he thought. He instantly decided to furnish the
information himself.
“I’ve got just two hundred dollars,--not a cent more,--and my board’s
paid to the first of the month. So you see I’ve got to get to work at
once,” he said.
Mr. Madge resumed his seat. “Make me an offer,” he replied, with a
shrewd glance at Ben from his watery eyes.
“That’s my offer: all I’ve got.”
“U-m-m! It’s little enough for the stuff.”
As he paused, Ben nerved himself for the hardest part of all--the
disclosure of his object in buying the Works. The temptation not to
unfold his plan was very strong, but he resisted it.
“Lumber’s tol’rable high now,” the old man continued, “and it’s bound
to go higher ’fore the year’s out.” A remembrance of the lease urged
him to close the bargain at once. “But, if you’re smart enough to sell
at a profit--”
“Before we come to a settlement, Mr. Madge,” Ben interrupted, “I want
to tell you of one reason I have in buying your property. I mean to
work over the bricks and soot of the chimney and the ground for gold.”
The old man was visibly astonished.
“So? For gold! Well, that’s another thing altogether!” he remarked,
as the instinct to get the better of a bargain demanded precedence
over all others. Then a gleam of avarice shone in his eyes. “Tell you
what, boy, if you’re anxious to mine, I kin show you some splendid
properties!” He waved his cane in his excitement. “The place to look
for gold is in a virgin mine, not in forty-year-old soot!”
“I don’t want any mine that can be bought for two hundred dollars,”
Ben said with decision. “And I must invest in something right off. I
can’t leave my offer open either,” he added as he saw the other make a
move to go. “If I don’t buy your ruin, I’ll have to get into something
else.”
“You are in a hurry, ain’t you? I wish ’t I could persude you to go
into a mine. ’Tain’t no use, eh?” he added as Ben shook his head.
“Well,” he rose stiffly, “I’ll see you to-morrow ’bout it.”
“To-morrow will do. I’ll meet you at the Works at ten o’clock. I’ve got
something on hand for the afternoon,” Ben answered.
When he was alone the boy tried to formulate a plan of operation,
should he succeed in buying the property. His most difficult task was
to control his impatience.
“I suppose I’ll have to do some more waiting,” he said to himself. “How
I wish to-morrow were here!”
He knew as well as if Mr. Madge had told him so, that his statement in
regard to his funds would not be believed without verification.
“He couldn’t take my word for it,” Ben reflected; “but all his digging
can’t bring up anything more than the truth. It’s just two hundred
dollars,--not a cent more.”
Shortly before ten o’clock on the following morning, Ben approached
the Works. He crossed the lumpy, uneven ground of the yard and entered
the building. As he gazed at the black walls of the structure and
through the many holes in the roof where the blue sky looked down, he
wished that they might speak and foretell the success or failure of his
venture.
The side of the building next to the water was built upon piles driven
into the beach, and through an opening in the wall he could see the
waves running back and forth, until they almost touched the building.
He was very much excited, and involuntarily he kept his hand over the
pocket which held his money. The responsibility of the step he was
about to take weighed heavily upon him. Never before had he felt so
utterly alone in the world. His visionary father had been the one
heretofore to whom he had naturally turned for advice, even when he
felt grave doubts as to his judgment. Now he was about to risk his all
in a speculation which might yield no return. He was buoyant with hope;
yet the doubt which always accompanies a first trial steadied him.
A rope hung from one of the joists of the flooring, and he idly watched
the waves wash it backward and forward. At another time he would have
questioned the presence of a deep furrow and some footprints in the
sand which the incoming tide was rapidly obliterating; but now he was
too preoccupied to notice them. He turned and saw Mr. Madge entering
the building.
“So, you got here ’fore me,” the old man began. “It’s a good thing to
be prompt. I don’t know of any one thing I like more in a young man
than punctooality. Allers practice it and you’ll never be sorry for
it.” He deliberately seated himself. “I recollec’ once, way back in
the early ’50’s, how punctooality paid me in one of the pootiest mines
that mortal man ever see. Clear white quartz, with lumps of yellow gold
peppered all through it! ’Twas this here way,” he continued as he hung
his cane on his arm--“the mine b’longed to a man who’d gone back East,
and hadn’t touched a pick to it for ’most a year; so another man and me
was both a-watchin’ for the day when the year’d be up, so’s we could
take up the claim.”
Ben fidgeted during this recital, but the other did not appear to
notice his impatience.
“The other feller,” continued Mr. Madge, “he got up at dawn,--’twas
summer time, ’bout three o’clock,--but when he clim’ up the hill
to the mine, there I was a-settin’, havin’ planted my claim two
hours before. I’d been there sence midnight!” He laughed at his
story, regardless of Ben’s inattention. “’Nother time, up in the
Comstocks,--this time I was just a-tellin’ you ’bout was in Nevada
County of this State,--I recollec’ how bein’ prompt saved a good mine
and kept a hull concern from goin’ to rack and ruin. ’Twas a silver
mine--as beautiful green ore as ever you see--”
“But I’d like to know, first,--before I hear about it, Mr.
Madge,--whether you’re going to accept my offer or not,” Ben
interrupted, for he could no longer control his impatience.
“Well, I’ve ben thinkin’ over your offer, Ben, and I’ve ’bout made up
my mind that it ain’t no price for the property, considerin’ the gold
that’s lyin’ hid on it. No price at all; in fact--”
“But it’s a chance whether I find any gold or not,” Ben impatiently
exclaimed. “When you buy a mine do you pay as much for it as you expect
to get out of it?” His heart sank with fear that his offer might not be
accepted. He felt that he must meet the old man on his own ground, and
he was on his mettle.
“It ain’t much of a price for the buildin’ material that’s in it,
let alone the gold,” Mr. Madge continued, as if he had not heard the
question. “I ain’t willin’ to let it go at your figure; but I’ll tell
you what I’ll do: I’ll go shares with you, if you’ll pay me the two
hundred, and put up the coin for the machinery. I s’pose a ’rastra will
do for the crushin’.”
“I don’t care to take a partner,” Ben firmly replied. His heart was
growing heavier with every second that failure seemed more certain.
He nerved himself for a final effort. “If you don’t care to accept
my offer, Mr. Madge, there’s no use wasting any more words over the
matter,” he said, and turned to go.
A vindictive gleam shot from the old man’s eyes. He did not reply for a
moment, but stopped Ben as he was going out of the door.
“I need the money,” he briefly said; “so I’ll take your offer; but I’m
just a-givin’ it to you.”
Ben dived in his pocket with alacrity and produced a bill of sale for
the lumber and bricks and also an agreement permitting him to work over
the ground until the expiration of the lease. The dates of the latter
he had omitted, as he did not know them.
He had opened his purse to pay over the money before he recalled the
omission. It flashed upon him, too, that the paper should be signed in
the presence of witnesses. He put his purse back in his pocket.
“Come to Hodges’ shop,--we must have witnesses,” Ben said.
Mr. Hodges was a locksmith, and owned a small shop in the old part of
the city known as North Beach. He was Beth’s stepfather; and as she was
Ben’s cousin, the boy naturally turned to him as a friend.
He looked up in surprise when his visitors entered, and gave them a
gruff welcome.
Mr. Madge was in great haste to sign the papers and get possession of
the money.
“The dates of the lease must be put in first,” said Ben. “What are
they?”
“Well, let me see,” said Mr. Madge. “’Twas thirty-five years ago, and
we got it ’cause ’twasn’t needed by the owners. Afterwards, ’twas made
over to me by the company.”
“That would make it 1866,” said Ben. He lifted the pen. “What was the
month?”
“Let me see,” the other replied, as if striving to remember. “We begun
in November, I think,--yes, we drove the first pile for the foundation
on the fifteenth day of November, 1866.” He brought his cane down with
a thump, to emphasize the statement. “I remember the time partic’larly,
’cause ’twas in that same month that I made a fortune up in Tuolumne
County. I owned the pootiest mine on the Mother Lode ’t ever you see!”
“I think you’ve told me about that before, Mr. Madge,” Ben replied as
he filled in the dates. “Now, this paper gives me the sole right to
work over the ground, bricks, and rubbish of the Smelting Works, until
the expiration of the lease. And that will be until--” Ben waited for
Mr. Madge to supply the rest of the sentence.
“Certainly it does,” the latter said. “You talk like a regular lawyer,
Ben.”
“Business is business. Now, as I understand it, the lease will expire
on the fifteenth of November,--that’s three months off. The Works are
mine till then.”
“They’re yours until the lease expires,” replied Mr. Madge, with
considerable impatience. “I’m ready to sign if you are. Let’s get
through with it.”
Ben passed the papers toward him and he affixed his signature. Ben
followed with his, and then he turned to Hodges.
“Will you sign here, Mr. Hodges?” he said.
“Yes, I’ll sign the tomfoolery to oblige you,” replied the locksmith.
But before he put his name to the paper he relieved his mind by making
several sneering remarks.
“Talk about di’monds and coal being the same! Why, that won’t be in
it, when it comes to findin’ gold in soot and bricks!” he said. “Ben,
you’ll be a regular what-do-you-call-it--chemist?”
“An alchemist? I hope so,” Ben replied with flushed cheeks. “We ought
to have another witness,” he added.
A man who was examining some keys in the back part of the shop came
forward.
“I’ll sign, if you want me to,” he said. “I heard the whole
business,--couldn’t help it.”
They agreed and he wrote his name, “Andrew Mundon,” in a good bold hand.
Ben then paid Mr. Madge the coveted twenties and the party separated.
Ben was eager to make his escape. He shrank from the coarse sarcasm
which he knew would be his share if he remained in the vicinity of the
shop, and he wanted to be alone to think over the matter.
“Whew! I’m in for it now!” he exclaimed as he strode along the street,
with a hand in each empty pocket. He threw back his head and stepped
briskly along. “And I want to tell you one thing right here,” he
addressed himself,--“there’s to be no looking backward!”
He whistled a lively air and quickened his steps as exciting thoughts
crowded fast upon him. Turning a corner suddenly, he collided with a
boy of his own age.
“Hello, Syd!”
The boy addressed, gave a grunt in reply.
“How do you like the place?” Ben continued.
“O, it’s well enough for a while. I’ve got another one at forty dollars
a month, in view.”
“Indeed! How soon do expect to make the change?” Ben inquired.
“O, I ain’t going to work for this money long,” Syd aggressively
replied, as though his employer were doing him an injury. “I’ve had
two offers--one’ll pay ten dollars more; but there’s more work and
longer hours. I haven’t made up my mind yet which one I’ll take.”
Doubt was plainly written in Ben’s face. Syd always had some such
rose-colored yarn as this to tell about himself.
“You’re lucky to have two such good chances,” Ben remarked. “You’ll
have to look out and take the right one.” He turned to go, but the
other stopped him.
“What are you doing nowadays? Beth said something about your having a
tiptop place.”
“I don’t think she could have said that, Syd.”
“Yes, she did, too, or words to that effect. You don’t mean to doubt my
word, do you?” he defiantly added.
“I’d rather not,” Ben quietly replied. “We’ve fought all our lives on
the slightest cause, and we’re too old for that sort of thing, now.”
“I don’t want to quarrel,--but that’s what she said.”
“I don’t see how that is possible, when I haven’t any place at all.”
“Haven’t any? Ain’t you working?”
“Yes, I’m going to work,--but for myself. It isn’t a secret any longer;
so you may as well know it, since you are so interested in my affairs.
I’ve bought the old Smelting Works, to work them for gold.”
Ben thoroughly enjoyed making this announcement. Between Syd and
himself there had always been a rivalry; and after Syd’s foolish
bragging about something that both knew to be false, it was a
satisfaction to Ben to impart his news.
“For gold!” Syd repeated in surprise.
“Yes, for gold; and I expect to find a pile.”
“Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed. Just give me a lump to have
set in a scarf-pin, will you?” He laughed in derision.
“All right,--a small nugget will do, I suppose. I must be going now;
good morning.”
Syd gave a grunt in reply and slouched away. Tall and awkward, he
thrust his head forward when he walked and kept his eyes fixed on the
ground.
Ben turned and watched him for a moment. “How he would rejoice in my
failure!” he said to himself. “It’s odd that some people find their
pleasure in just such things. Well, I hope he’ll not have that joy at
my expense, that’s all.”
He regretted that he had yielded to the impulse to tell Syd.
“I wish I’d waited until I could have shown him the color of my gold,”
he reflected. “Perhaps I sha’n’t find a pinch of it.”
Glancing up he saw that he had nearly reached Market Street, and,
obeying a sudden impulse, he crossed that great artery and turned his
steps toward the foundries.
He was glad to have something to divert his thoughts from his interview
with Syd, and he spent the rest of the day in looking at machinery,
more especially that used in mining.
The clash and clamor of the busy hives brought the difficulties of his
undertaking glaringly before him. His own ignorance seemed appalling.
How could he hope to compete with this skilled labor and wonderful
machinery!
“I am not competing,” he told himself. “I am doing something which no
one else has thought of. The idea is original,--here, at any rate,--and
ideas can be made to pay.”